


Night, Day and Dawn

by Palomita_Quebrado



Category: Kind Of - Fandom, South Park
Genre: Freeform, Incredibly freeform, Not much really, Other, but with these characters in mind, simply an explotation, this is hardly fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:12:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palomita_Quebrado/pseuds/Palomita_Quebrado
Summary: 1,2,3





	

Three. The sun. The moon. The stars.

Three. The day. The night. The evening. 

Three. Not two, not four, not one, but three.

One is too little, lonely. Cold. Blue. Very blue, a black figure slung across a white rusting sheet. So sad and alone. They are nothing. They mean nothing, and they will continue to mean nothing until approached. 

Two is a pair, but simply a pair. Not one, but two, but simply two. They can talk and they can laugh, but there is no one to listen. No one will know what they talked about. No one will hear it. It will just be one and two who know. But no one else will. No one will know of the secrets shared nor of the words hushed between whispers. No one will know.  
How lonely. Still so lonely. They mean nothing, and they will continue to mean nothing until approached.

Now three, how odd. Usually unwanted. Three's a crowd, but what is a crowd if not a pair plus a lonely black figure. The figure is no longer alone, and the pair can be heard. The lonely dot knows of the words and the secrets and sounds. He hears them loud and clear. The sounds are pretty in his ink bleeding ear. 

The pair cannot forget their words for the third heard and can repeat it to them. Soft and gentle words playing back. They remember how sweet and gentle it was and they fall in love all over again. 

Lonely and sad but not so lonely and sad any more. He follows and watches and sits with the pair, the pair unaware, but they are, and they stare. They look at the ink, the black, the goo, they whisper to each other, questioning. What, why, when and who. 

Who are you? Me? No clue? I am sad and alone how about you? We are sad but we are not alone, but maybe as a pair we are alone, a lone pair, a pair of loners, lonely in pairs, perhaps a lonely pair we suppose. What a predicament. Yes, we know. But really we are three, yes? No. Yes, we are three. How so, we are one and a pair, not three. No, no, no. You are mistaken. No, listen.Yes.

We are three. Yes a pair you two may be, but you are both alone. A lonely pair. Each one alone. Just because you are a pair does not mean you are each any less alone. I am one but I am still lonely, you may be two but you are each still one. And as one, loneliness comes. And when loneliness comes on her blue ribbon horse, there is nothing to feel but sadness and remorse.

Oh.

Oh?

That is quite a predicament we suppose. Well I suppose, and you suppose too. We both suppose I guess. Yes, but we may be a pair but we are not one. Quite, or else we wouldn't be a pair.

And there's nothing wrong with that I suppose. To be both ones and a pair, nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all.

So we are three.

Yes three as I said before.

Didn't even notice we were three, how strange. 

Introductions perhaps? I am black and sad and I seem to drip ink all over my white sheets. It makes me sad. I don't like it. Look. Look how my white pearl sheets are stained with muck. I've ruined them. It's quite terrible.

I think they're lovely, they look like art. Quite pretty. I am bright and yellow-white like daisies but yellow can be such an annoying color don't you think? Too happy and in the eyes. I don't like it. Makes me sick honestly. Don't like it one bit. Sometimes if I feel too strong, I blind myself with my light so harsh. I don't like it. No sir, not at all. 

Yellow is soft and kind unlike black. I rather have sunshine go down my back than drown in the loneliness of a cold black night. 

But the night isn't so lonely with the stars. Especially if you have a hand or two, or maybe even three.

Oh, and you? 

Right, sorry to interrupt but I am sometimes too red. I tend to burn myself when I get too ahead of myself. Or when I think too strongly. Which is often. So often. I get angry. I don't know why. It makes others sad and so the sadness eats me up from inside as well. I don't like being red, not one bit. It hurts and it stings and it makes me feel sick. Too much. Too strong. Too fast. Too soon. I rather lay near the sun or the moon, then feel the rush of heat at noon.

Nonsense. Black and white respond.

Without the passion of an in between what is the point of being seen? 

Seen?

Yes seen. The flower proposes.

I don't think I quite get what you mean.

You see, what is the point to feel one way or that way if you can't feel both ways at once and have it be okay. 

I still don't understand.

Why have winter and summer without spring and fall. Then the seasons are hardly seasons at all. They are simply the cold and the heat. Never without warmth underneath. 

I guess you're right, without the middle there's no one to stop a fight.

Yes.

Without a third, there is no one to stop the two and with only one there is no one at all and only loneliness, but-

But?

With three. Perfect harmony.

The rule of threes one might say.

Perhaps three is the way it's always been. 

The earth. The water. The sky. 

The soul. The heart. The mind. 

One. Two. Three.

.  
.  
.

And to think we three had never been. We just met. Yet I knew you both in a dream. 

I was so black and blue and sad.

I was so red and sick and mad.

I was too bright and yellow and glad. 

Oh blue won't you come show us what it means to cry.

Only if sun will come shine down her light.

But of course if fire can come keep us warm 

Three, the way it was meant to be.

Blue, red, and yellow.  
A triangle, a circle, a square.

Why three.

One is lonely.

Two is loneliness together.

And perhaps three is just triple the loneliness.

But three feels less lonely to me. 

It's clearer to see when there is three.

So.

So.

So.

Do you love me?

Your ink delights us.

And do you, do you both, love me?

But of course your light makes us feel safe. 

And me? Am I loved? Despite who I am?

You are loved because, not despite, of who you are, we've never felt warmer. 

I feel warm. I feel inky and sweet and goey. I can't stop smiling. 

We love you. I love you. We both love you. We love each other. Love you.

 

 

 

Do you remember what it was like when there was just one and two? 

Nonsense.

There was only really three. 

 

One.

 

Two..

 

Three...


End file.
